


a thousand hours just thrown away

by hrtbnr (kiden)



Category: Class of 198x (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Post-Series, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/pseuds/hrtbnr
Summary: “It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” she says, facing away from him. Always towards the window. “That we were the ones who stayed together. That we’re fucking dumbasses but are, like, the only ones who understand.”





	a thousand hours just thrown away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentSprings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentSprings/gifts).



> <3

It’s surprisingly easy to forget. 

The bigger things fade from Hannah’s memory, until all that’s left of What Happened are the small moments. Watching multiple moons move across an unfamiliar sky. The smell of foreign plants. The bounce of her steps when the gravity wasn’t quite right. 

Hannah remembers long nights with nothing but the stars to light the space between them - too scared to start a fire and of what it would draw to them - talking to Mike about what they’d do next.  How they would fight the next big thing. The details are lost. But Hannah can remember his eyes - how Mike looked at her like he was trying to say something he didn’t have words for. How tired he looked all the time.

The club she’s in is so loud it almost manages to chase the thoughts away. Someone slams into her and Hannah spins around to shove them hard back into the pit, growling and spitting. The music is angry and it’s all around her.  Inside her. 

It’s been years and what’s left, really, is only the feelings about what happened to them out there, whenever and wherever they were. Hannah tries not to think about it.  But tonight she thinks about Mike, and how big his hands were when he held on to her. How badly she’d wanted to be closer. 

And thinking of Mike makes her think of Sam. His long neck, exposed whenever he threw his head back with laughter. Long nimble fingers sliding across her back, a promise or an offer she never cashed in on. 

And thinking of Sam makes her think of Amanda. 

The months after, when she had nowhere to go and Hannah convinced her parents to take her in.  How they shared a room, being two girls, after all. And the nights she’d bite her lip as she moved her hand between her thighs, fingers slick and pressing hard, thinking about Amanda dancing in her underwear to the fuckng Cure. Her white-blonde hair bouncing until it looked like a halo. 

Hannah tries not to think about it. Forces it all down until she nearly forgets. 

But the music is loud and thrumming inside her and she regrets and wants and feels alive for the first time, in so, so long. And the voice in her head, that’s screaming above the music, reminds her she knows exactly where Mike is. 

And there’s nothing to stop her. 

She’s small but strong and the crowd parts for her as she makes her way to the door. There are a half dozen roads that can get her to Mike’s apartment and all of them will take about a hour and a half, if she speeds. All of them lead to his front door.

-

Sam doesn’t deserve this. 

He deserves a lot of things. A lot of really bad things. Because he’s a prick and a piece of shit and, if there were such thing as karma, he’d have died years ago in a gutter somewhere. Alone and strung out and nameless. 

What he has instead is Amanda. 

It’s always surprising how big her eyes can look, how bright they are, even in the middle of the night.  Even when they’re half closed, head back against the vestibule wall of her apartment building, sighing softly as he touches her in places his hands shouldn’t be allowed to go. She makes a series of increasingly higher sounds, his name maybe wrapped between them, but maybe not, and he holds her until she stops shaking. Doesn’t offer to reciprocate - she’s not drunk enough for that - but she takes his hand and brings him upstairs, like she always does, and directs him to the couch. 

The couch is the agreement, but they both know in a few hours he’ll be in her bed.  Tucked up behind her, his hands on her waist and in her hair, holding her gently. Sometimes the way he touches Amanda makes her cry. He never asks why, because he doesn’t have to, but sometimes he thinks he should anyway. That maybe she’d want to talk about it. 

Amanda reaches out for him in the night, threads their fingers together, and pulls him closer and closer. And she’s so strong, so powerful, that Sam thinks one day she’ll pull too hard and break him. He’s sure he wouldn’t put up a fight anymore. 

It’s not pretty, but they love each other. And it’s certainly not whole. 

They’re two pieces that fit together, despite being an incomplete set, and Sam tries to fill the empty spaces for her.  He doesn’t deserve it, but she tries to fill the empty spaces for him too. They don’t fight like they used to. 

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” she says, facing away from him. Always towards the window. “That we were the ones who stayed together. That we’re fucking dumbasses but are, like, the only ones who understand.” 

“Fuck them,” Sam says and presses a kiss to her bare shoulder. 

He doesn’t mean it and Amanda knows that, so she stays quiet. 

In the morning she kisses him. A real kiss that doesn’t expect anything and, whenever she does this, is always feels a little bit like a miracle. That he could have hurt her so badly and she still forgives him, every day. That underneath all the vapidness, all her carefully constructed walls, she’s so endlessly hopeful. For years she’s been able to look at him and see something more inside. 

“I love you, ‘Manda,” he tells her. 

Because he’s always loved her and she always deserves to hear it. 

“Love you too, Sammy,” she says.  

And like everytime she says it, it’s also a promise. 

-

Most of the time Mike is alone. 

He goes to work alone. Comes home alone.

His apartment is small and shitty and there’s barely anything in it.  A mattress, a lamp, and a hot plate. He’s got just one picture on the wall in an expensive frame, and he looks at it every day, and can’t stop himself from trying to imagine what could have been if he’d just been braver.  

The funny thing is, he knows he’s brave. He’d been tested. Went through hell to learn it. But didn’t come out any stronger than he’d gone in.  And when he wasn’t looking the things he cared about most slipped through his fingers. 

He goes to work. Moves furniture. Pays his bills.  

Comes home and falls asleep alone. 

It would be nice to think one day he’ll wake up and understand it all. That he’ll be a adult who has their life together, who understands how shit works and the best way to navigate the world. But every year that passes he’s realizing that’s just not how it it is. Nothing really changes - people never really change - they just get older. And opportunity, like people, can disappear if from one day to the next. 

Mike knows he’s not the smartest guy in the world. He’s good with some things, but most things he isn’t, and the truth is that none of it ever made sense. And even when it did make sense, it was terrifying and impossible. 

Once, before Hannah left town, before Amanda left and Sam followed, Mike thought it could work out. All the mess of feelings in his heart overrode the fear in his head, and Sam took his hand and brought it around his own waist, made it so Mike was holding him, their chests pressed together so firmly he could feel both their hearts beating. His body was warm and softer than Mike would’ve thought, and he smelled like beer and pizza, and Mike looked at his mouth and wanted to kiss him. 

While he was thinking that, Amanda’s hand touched his shoulder, and she swept it upwards into his hair.  Her fingers carding through the strands, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that made his spine tingle. 

“It’s okay,” she said, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid. You can kiss him. Sam wants you to kiss him.”

“I want him to fuck me,” Sam said, and Amanda hit him on the back of the head just as Mike let him go, his whole body burning like it was on fire. 

“This is fucking weird,” Mike said, which didn’t cover just how fucking weird it was, but he couldn’t think of any way else to say it. 

“It’s okay,” Amanda whispered. “Ignore him, he’s a fucking idiot, okay? Just -.” 

She took his hand and moved it up underneath her skirt, until Mike could feel the heat between her legs.  And then she kissed him. His very first kiss. Her lipgloss was cherry flavored. 

Amanda kissed him and then dropped to her knees, making quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, and it didn’t feel so weird then to let Sam kiss him too. 

It felt good. Right. 

It made sense. 

But the next day he couldn’t do anything but pretend it didn’t happen, all that terror and self-loathing bubbling up inside him until he couldn’t breathe. Like he wasn’t brave at all. And when Amanda tried to kiss him again, Mike pushed her away, back into Sam’s arms, and lied. 

“I don’t want this,” he said, even though it hurt to. 

And Amanda said, “It’s okay. We still love you,” at the same time Sam said, “Go fuck yourself, then.” 

And the next day they were gone. 

It’s the first memory that comes to mind when Hannah shows up at his door on a rainy Saturday night. As soon as she sees him she launches herself into his apartment, into his arms, and without addressing a single moment of the three years they haven’t seen each other, kisses him. 

Hannah’s still just as small as she was then, and Mike lifts her easily, picks her up and carries her to the mattress on the floor of his living room. 

Afterwards, she presses her mouth to his chest, and between kisses, says, “We fucked up. We fucked up so fucking bad, Mike. You know that, right? Where do you think they are?”

And, for once, Mike feels like the smartest guy in the universe.  

He knows the answer to that.

-

Amanda tried to kiss Hannah just once in the middle of the night. Sam had left most of a six pack from their last get-together, and they took it out on the roof of the house.  The night sky was so big, so clear, they could have spent hours counting stars and have gotten nowhere. 

She knew Hannah loved her, just as she knows now that, wherever Hannah is, she still loves her. 

“Don’t make this fucking hard, okay?” she’d said, pressing so close they were touching shoulders and hips and thighs. “Don’t be weird about it. You’re like, a smart chick, you know? There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

Hannah agreed to all that, but when Amanda leaned in to press their lips together, she pulled away so roughly she nearly fell off the roof.  Amanda never tried to kiss her again. 

Not because she didn’t want to, but because it hurt.  It hurt that Hannah couldn’t see what her and Sam did.  That they’d been across the universe and back and there were no four people who fit together better.  That they’d never get anywhere alone, or in pairs even, that it had to be all four of them. Because the way they felt, the love they carried, was too big for any less. 

Three weeks later, after her and Sam slept with Mike and he turned around and told them no, not ever again, she cried so hard she thought she’d never stop. 

And Sam held her and held her until she could breathe on her own again, and said, “Fuck it. Fuck everything. We’re leaving.” 

And they went. Because there was nothing for them there and felt too painful to stay. 

-

They wait a month. 

Hannah has to finish out her semester at school, and the truth is, she needs the time to think. Three years is a long time for her - and Mike - to have gotten there shit together, and there’s a chance that Sam and Amanda have moved on.  Just like her memories of their adventure faded, there’s a strong possibility that Amanda doesn’t want what she once did. That Sam doesn’t want it either. And if her and Mike find them, there’s no promise there that they’ll find what they’re looking for. 

Their first night together Mike told her how they’d tried. How he fell in bed with Sam and Amanda and they’d said so many things that, once the sun came up, and the spell or whatever was broken, he just couldn’t believe any of it was true. Amanda had said she loved him and she loved Hannah and Sam, too, and Sam had agreed. And that didn’t Mike think it felt like how it was supposed to be? 

Just the four of them.  

“I did feel that way, but,” he sighed, and Hannah kissed him so he’d keep talking, “it sounded fucking crazy, right? It still sounds crazy. You never hear about four people all in a relationship, Hannah.” 

“Maybe we’re not like other people,” she whispered. “Why should we be?” 

It’s a long drive to the little town where Sam and Amanda live.  It’s nothing special, and you could miss it if you blinked. There little rented apartment is just the same. Shitty and run down, but charming in it’s own way, and when Mike takes her hand his palm is just a sweaty as hers. 

“It’s gonna be okay?” 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Mike assures. 

It might not be true, but Hannah chooses to believe him. He’s so fucking brave. Brave enough for the both of them. 

Mike knocks on the door.  If Sam is surprised to see them it doesn’t show, but he steps aside to let them in although he’d have every right to slam the door in both their faces. The apartment is just what Hannah would imagine from the two of them. Piles of records and bright neon colored clothes, all the appliances are pastel pink, and there’s empty bottles of booze and beer cans piled up in the sink. But it’s warm. And lived in. Nothing like Mike’s place or her equally empty dorm room. 

“I don’t really wanna have a whole conversation about this right now,” Hannah says, by way of a greeting.  It’s Sam who’s standing in front of her, but they all know she’s talking to Amanda. 

Amanda, standing in the doorway of what Hannah assumes is the bedroom, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. 

She looks beautiful.  Not a girl anymore but a woman; filled out around her hips, her round face a little slimmer and more grown-up. 

“I should’ve kissed you back,” Hannah says. “I guess, fuck, we all should have kissed each other. How the hell did you guys know that so early?” 

Amanda doesn’t answer.  Instead, she says, “You’re a such a little bitch.”  And like Hannah had thrown herself at Mike, Amanda closes the distance between them and gathers Hannah in her arms. Holds her tightly. 

She smells like vanilla shampoo and cheap powder laundry detergent, and Hannah buries her face in her shoulder, hides in Amanda’s hair, and can’t believe she ever thought she belonged somewhere else. 

“You’re a bitch, too,” Sam says.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry, dude,” Mike answers. “Sometimes I’m a little slow.” 

Hannah’s still in Amanda’s hold and can’t see them, but she hears them move closer to each other, and knows they’re hugging too. 

“Is this okay?” Hannah whispers against Amanda’s neck, low enough that only she’ll hear. “It’s been a long time. Do you guys still -.” 

“Don’t be a fucking moron,” Amanda says, and pulls away just to take Hannah’s face in both her hands. “We’ve only been waiting for you. You think I  _ like _ being alone with Sam?”

Hannah laughs and it feels like a hundred years since the last time. 

“Stop hugging that dickhead and come hug me,” Amanda says, reaching out one of her arms for Mike. “Please come here and hug me before I completely lose my fucking mind, you asshole. You’re both assholes.” 

“Oh, ‘Manda,” Mike sighs, moving in so she can wrap her tiny arms around them both the best she can. “I’m sorry we hurt you. I’m real sorry.” 

Quietly, as if he doesn’t want Sam to hear, he says, “I missed you both so fucking much. Everyday.” 

“Us too,” she whispers. “Doesn’t matter now though, right? You fuck. You have to stay now that you’re here. Promise.” 

Mike nods and Hannah brushes away the wetness gathering at the corner of Amanda’s eyes. 

“I’ll break their legs if they try to leave,” Sam says. “I’ll - “

“You’ll shut up, Samuel. C’mere, too. Everyone come here right now and pay a lot of attention to me because I think I deserve it.” 

Sam laughs, elbows past both Hannah and Mike to grab Amanda around her waist, and kisses her hard and deep, even as she reaches out for two other hands to hold.  When he breaks the kiss he looks at Hannah, and then Mike, and grins. If there was ever a time when Sam looked so genuinely happy, Hannah can’t recall seeing it.  She’s sure it doesn’t exist. 

“So,” he says, and takes a deep breath, hands on his hips. “So, how do you think this works? Fuck circle? I want to be inside someone and have someone inside me and then something with my face, I don’t know. I had a lot of time to think about the logistics of this shit but didn’t.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Hannah says, and drags him down for a kiss.


End file.
